


The Strange and Lonely

by jeanniebee



Category: Broadway RPF, Marvel (Comics), Real Person Fiction, Spider-Man (Comicverse), Spider-Man - All Media Types, Wicked RPF
Genre: Broadway, Crossover, Superheroes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 19:08:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6127105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeanniebee/pseuds/jeanniebee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Returning to California after the events of <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/2749724/chapters/6164162"><i><b>That Face in the Mirror</b></i></a>, Idina Menzel finds new love, a new home, and throws herself into her new album.  It should be the best of times.  But the world she thought she left behind in New York isn't done with her yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Where We Can All Just Hide Away

**Author's Note:**

> This story begins in February 2016 - 9 months after the events of [_That Face in the Mirror_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2749724/chapters/6164162%22), 16 months after [_Witches and Spiders and Goblins_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1989657/chapters/4309278). 
> 
> The caveats are the same as the prior stories: as close to Idina's reality as possible for these absurd situations; Spider-Man _comic book continuity_ , which means he's 35 years old, but here he's also more jaded and uses more colorful metaphors.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a perfect world, in another time, heroes would get happy endings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally a stand alone chapter, supposedly "The End" to the previous two stories. But, if you read the last story, there was one huge plot thread left open. After time, another story began to gestate, following that particular thread. So, the tone of the successive chapters may seem out of sync with the first one. OK, so this series isn't particularly popular - but hey - I have fun doing it and it keeps the voices at bay.

_Do you ever think of me?_

  


Sunday, February 21st. It was cool in New York, with a light rain.

_Aaaaaannnnddd.....welcome to another episode of **Dragnet**_ , Spider-Man grumbled internally after flinging himself via web line off the Trump International Hotel and Tower at 1 Central Park West, then descending rapidly over Columbus Circle. It never ceased to amuse him when he got close to the ground to hear the shrieks of tourists certain he was plummeting to his death before another spurt from one of the web cartridges around his wrists snagged a building along the circle and he hurled himself into the skies over 8th Avenue, penetrating further into Midtown’s airspace. Along with the shrieking came the rush of pictures snapped by a myriad of phones hoping to capture the moment if he did morph into a gruesome little red and blue puddle on the sidewalk. It had to be the tourists because hardcore New Yorkers had seen him showboating innumerable times over the years and relegated him to part of the natural landscape. “When you're in New York, take a ride on one of the horse drawn carriages, watch out for the bike messengers, stay away from the costumed panhandlers in Times Square, ignore that asshole Spider-Man when he's showing off, etc.” 

_**Nobody does it better...makes me feel sad for the rest**...I suppose I should really update my musical tastes to something within this century. But I guess that's what happens when you're raised by two people in their late middle age and you had no friends in high school. But, being musically seduced by Taylor or Ariana or Selina would just make me feel like a creepy old perv. Besides, Ariana Grande sounds like something you'd order at Starbucks. Please give me an Ariana Grande topped with extra foam. See? That's just gross._

_What about Adele?_

_No...definitely not Adele._

He shuddered a bit with the sudden chill as the rain graduated from a light drizzle to something a little more soaking. Every year he pondered devising a thermal variation of his costume, or even one with a protective membrane that repelled water. And every year he didn’t do it. Often it was a matter of funds, or other priorities getting in the way. And then there was inertia. He hadn’t done it in all of these years – why change now? Fortunately, two decades of web slinging in inclement weather combined with his super physiology allowed him to build up his endurance to the whims of the elements. At least it wasn’t a damn blizzard like last month. But the costume debate reminded him of a conversation months ago with someone who ridiculed him for failing to make modifications to his duds over the years, and he immediately banished that memory from his mind.

Continuing his swing through Midtown, he observed how reconstruction in Times Square from the gentrification attacks was proceeding. It had been a hell of a couple of years in the Theater District and the Square. There was loss of the theaters - the Gershwin, the Rodgers, the Imperial, the Music Box, the Minskoff, the Marquis - all gone. Different disasters, but the same impact, culminating in the feeling by many that an important part of the city had been gutted. At least the Gershwin was on the way back, although due in no small part to a little help from his most despised enemy. The Disney Store had already reopened and the rebirth of the New Amsterdam Theater was proceeding ahead of schedule. What the Mouse wants, the Mouse gets, even without help from Osborn he mused. Progress on the rest was much slower. The spot where the Marriott Marquis stood was now home to a huge pit with a skeletal foundation. Everything else between 45th and 46th streets, and Broadway to the boundary of the open air Theater District Shopping Court just off 8th Avenue was simply - dirt. 

He casually noticed the Jumbotrons in Times Square broadcasting _ABC's The Wonderful World of Disney: Disneyland 60_ anniversary special as he continued through the heart of the area. The Jumbotrons were _always_ promoting ABC television or Disney Movies, ad naseum. Typically they were just background noise to him, easily ignored. Very little made him stop and take notice unless it was a breaking news bulletin about criminal activity, and certainly _never_ anything from the entertainment world.

But then he saw **her** , prompting him to release his web line and land by the large four-faced clock near the top of the pyramidal feature of the Paramount Building.

_Sonofabitch. It's not enough seeing Elsa from _Frozen_ **everywhere** I look. Can't go to the 7-11 for a piece of cardboard pepperoni pizza and a Slurpee without seeing her on a box of cereal or yogurt or cheese sticks or sanitary napkins - insert "Let it Flow" joke here._

This time it wasn't Elsa catching his attention, but her flesh and blood alter ago, larger than life on the ABC Supersign, a 4600+ square foot Jumbotron on the corner of 44th and Broadway. The bottom always scrolled with the latest news and programming items, and the top portion normally broadcast a number of different scenes concurrently, with the LED ribbons rippling around a singular screen near center giving it a unique look among the other epileptic seizure inducing light shows in Times Square. However, at this moment, it was all her. But then again, she was _always_ larger than life, even when her image wasn't projected by a trillion pixels on a mega LED screen and that voice of hers wasn’t amplified by microphones and other hardware. After all, the woman was born loud, boisterous and obnoxious, no doubt spewing profanities all the way through the birth canal. A large crowd had already gathered on the plaza watching the festivities, but when _she_ appeared on the screen, it became considerably more vocal, particularly among the young girls screaming her name and professing their love for her. It took him an extra moment to realize all of the round blue lights in the crowd on location in California were from glowing Mickey Mouse ears. 

_Sorry, "Bob," but corporate synergy or no, I am **not** wearing a fucking pair of Mouse ears as I swing through the city. Come up with a flame retardant pair and give them to that tool Johnny. He'll be more than happy to do it, particularly if he thinks it’ll get him laid._

Spider-Man halted his morose contemplation for a moment to focus on the unfolding scene. _God, look at that smile. She seems happy, doing what she loves to do, what she was born to do, surrounded by crowds that love and adore her as well. She feeds off that, needing it as much as she needs to breathe. And, I have to concede the mouthy little migraine inducer deserves it, particularly after all she’s been through the last couple of years._

_Still, she's holding back, singing the song in a lower key. Maybe that’s how she was directed to sing it, or maybe she's not feeling well. Knowing her, though, I doubt it. She's afraid. I see it in her eyes. She’s afraid she's going to botch the high notes, like she did that New Year's Eve. She's afraid she's going to fail. She’s _always_ afraid she’s going to fail. How can such a beautiful, talented woman have such a poor self-image?_

_Huh. Never said anything like **that** to her, did I? Oh, I certainly said a lot of other things, such as the fact that she was the most vulgar woman I ever met, relentlessly needled her about her fame, her old roles, her money, and compared her to a former little blonde co-star because it was funny as hell to watch her do a slow burn and then boil over. Such a charmer, Parker. Fucking Valentino had nothing on you._

_But I never used those other adjectives around her. Never had the balls, I suppose. Wouldn't have mattered anyway. She's happy where she is, happy to be away from here. She’s where she wants to be – spending more quality time with her son, working on a new album, renovating and settling into her new house…as well as her new man._

_Or maybe that should be him settling into her._

_HAH! Such a wit, Parker! You haven’t matured one day since that spider chomped down on you all those years ago, have you? Although, I gotta confess, I thought it would be James Snyder. Never heard of this other dude._

At that moment, she concluded with a cheery "Happy 60th Birthday" wish to Disneyland.

_Yeah. Happy Fucking 60th Birthday, Disneyland,_ he thought as he lept off the Paramount Building, shot a web line and began his arc up into the sky.

_There has got to be some supervillain out here tonight just begging to get his ass kicked all the way to Cleveland. And I’ve got enough piss and vinegar for the entire Sinister Six plus alternates…_

  


_Have you wondered, could we be - ?_

It was sunny and 70's in Los Angeles. As it was yesterday. And the day before. And would be again tomorrow. And the day after that. Wash, rinse, repeat.

"Dee, they delivered the wrong fixtures for the guest bathrooms. I swear I’m beginning to think _I_ should have been our own general contractor and hand-picked all of the subs myself. Dee….? "

Aaron Lohr’s rant about subcontractors ceased upon entering the living room and noting how transfixed Idina Menzel was as she stood watching a program unfold on the large plasma screen TV which had been among the new additions to their home. She just returned from taking Walker to school, and was in her usual morning apparel, plain top and shorts, having kicked off her flip flops, hair in a messy ball atop her head. Aaron doubted she even brushed her teeth yet that morning. Walker was a good kid, but he was a handful in the mornings and Dee was _not_ a morning person.

_Oh, no. Please, not again_ , he silently begged any unseen deity who might be eavesdropping. "What are you watching?" came the careful question, attempting to avoid any suggestion of an accusatory or irritated tone.

She didn't respond. She didn’t have to. And he didn’t have to guess. He knew. Another story. About _those_ people. About _him_. 

It was almost guaranteed while channel surfing that Idina would stop upon seeing news, or a feature, about one of the New York superheroes. Often, once she recognized the character, she moved on. But when it was _Spider-Man_ , however, she almost always watched, at least for the first few minutes. It wasn't hard to understand why. Spider-Man was a key reason she was alive today.

What held her attention now was a news story about more maneuvering by the legal team defending the terrorists from the "Gentrification Bombings" in Times Square and other parts of Manhattan last year. And that was another problem. It seemed that _any_ crime-related news item, related to costumed hijinks or not, grieved her seriously these days, as she was not only frustrated with what she perceived as the ineffectiveness of law enforcement and the judicial system, but almost deluding herself into thinking that _she_ of all people, should do something. Maybe having experienced what she had in New York, she was now projecting herself into crime victims' shoes and displaying a hyperactive sense of empathy. Whatever it was - it wasn't healthy and deeply concerned him.

He placed his hands on her shoulders and gently rubbed them, hoping to drain away some of the tension likely building within her. ”Sweetheart, didn’t the doctor tell you to _stop_ doing this to yourself? If it’s that painful for you to remember that experience at the Gershwin, and the Times Square attacks, you simply _can’t_ keep revisiting them like this. What good is it doing you?”

It killed him to see her like this. She had been a godsend to him at this time in his life. They had known each other for years, been good friends...and there had been a time during one of those periods when things were at their darkest with Taye. But she became pregnant with Walker and she went back to him, like she always did until she saw the impact her and Taye's poisonous relationship was having on their son. 

He couldn't help but fall in love with her when they were together in _See What I Wanna See_ at the New York City Public Theater back in 2005, the same year they were also in the film version of _Rent_. But then again, who wouldn't fall in love with Idina Menzel once you got past the loud, crude, sassy New Yorker and saw the lovely, sensitive woman that exterior had been built up over the years to protect? When she returned to California, they struck up their acquaintance again, and things just…clicked.

He would like to think that _he_ had been just as important to _her_ as well. She had been in so much pain, so much torment, suffering so much over the last two years. And although 2015 had been a fulfilling year, professionally, with the final months of _If/Then_ 's Broadway run, her highly successful world tour, and the western leg of the _If/Then_ national tour, cumulatively those experiences left her emotionally exhausted and she barely limped through to the end of her seven city commitment to _If/Then_. 

"I'm so grateful for this, Aaron," she would say as they cuddled together in bed on weekend mornings when she didn't have to take Walker to school and when the contractors weren't tearing apart their new Encino home and putting it back together piece by piece. "It's just so... _normal_." The first time she uttered that he thought it was a backhanded compliment. Telling a guy how great it is that he’s “normal,” didn't exactly sound like a five star review. Normal compared to what?

And then there were the troubling dreams, some which ended with her waking up screaming. More often, she would sob and reach for him after they had run their course. 

“You love me, don't you, Aaron?” she would ask after another one had tortured her sleep. 

"Of course I do," he would respond. 

"And you'll always love me, right? As I am? With whatever...baggage I come with? No matter what?" 

"No matter what."

Frustratingly, she refused to elaborate on the subject matter of the dreams, which he found inexplicable. After all, he _was_ a therapist. Still, it didn’t require a degree or license to deduce her sources of torment. So much had happened to her, after all. Her heart-wrenching divorce. The destruction of the Gershwin Theatre in which she nearly lost her own life, and her painful recuperative period afterwards. Spider-Man had saved her during that disaster. Then those terrible attacks in Times Square and other areas of Manhattan occurred. How horrifying would it have been, living in the city at the time? Not to mention those moments when it seemed the terrorists might succeed in bringing down the tallest building in New York, 432 Park Avenue in Midtown, taking a large swath of the city with it. There was the added trauma of nearly watching her friend, Kristin Chenoweth, murdered on a live feed. But Spider-Man had come to the rescue there as well, saving Kristin, and stopping the terrorists from toppling the tower, sparing God knows how many lives.

Unlike others, he didn’t reflexively dislike New York’s menagerie of costumed characters; well, except the costumed panhandlers, but they had _those_ in LA as well, particularly along Hollywood Boulevard. In fact, he respected many of them - but Spider-Man - well, there was always something "off" about him. The guy was just – odd. There were those stupid rapid-fire jokes which really weren’t that funny, especially when the situation demanded seriousness, and he seemed bizarrely awkward in formal situations. He never seemed to fit in with the rest of the superheroes, never joined a team like so many others over the years. That couldn’t be a coincidence. There had to be something about the man that led the rest of the costumed population to keep him at arms-length, although there was usually grudging respect. For all of the good he did, however, maybe the guy _was_ entitled to be a little weird.

But seeing how these memories tormented Idina, and how often Spider-Man seemed a factor, Aaron questioned how much of a hero the guy really was. She was always quick to correct him when he began to suggest otherwise, and she would become angry when "Spidey" would be slammed in the media. Aaron wondered if his involvement in those violent events, particularly at the Gershwin, now made just the sight or mention of him some sort of automatic trigger for the PTSD she had obviously suffered. On the television at this very moment was a clip from the Times Square catastrophe, showing Spider-Man swinging in and landing on Two Times Square. However, he wasn't alone this time. He was accompanied by another character flying on a strange, bat-shaped platform.

The Goblin Queen. Another of New York's costumed vigilantes. Idina visibly tensed at a close-up of her. Although the character had pointed ears, and an exaggerated nose and eyebrows, with her green gloves, green face and black body suit, she bore more than a passing resemblance to the Wicked Witch of the West.

He had forgotten how much that woman had been part of thwarting the terrorists’ scheme. Her dramatic takedown of their leader in the air over the Hudson River while crashing into the Ellis Island Memorial was a feature on many highlight reels. Outside of New York, her participation in that event wasn't as well remembered, since she obviously wasn’t as famous as Spider-Man, and she disappeared from public view immediately afterwards. In New York, there was always another crisis, another round of costumed slug fests to occupy the public and the 24 hour news cycle.

"Did you ever see her when you lived in New York?" Aaron asked Idina, who merely nodded in response. "I wonder what happened to her after the thing with the tower. Did she get killed? Or did she just give up? 

“Still,” he continued, with a certain amount of awe, “can you imagine what it must have been like – to fly on that thing? The rush must have been fantastic, the sense of adventure. Sometimes I think I understand why those people do what they do.”

The television story shifted to more mundane heroics, such as Spider-Man’s activities during last month's East Coast blizzard, performing the task of several tow trucks by pushing and pulling stuck cars from the snow, or getting supplies to people in need when the authorities couldn’t readily get to them.

_"Hey - the cold doesn't bother me anyway_ , “ he said during a moment when a microphone was shoved in his face, which was met by loud groans in the background. _“Yeah yeah yeah, that's **her** line, I know. But it's not like she's here to use it - so it's fair game! What’s she gonna do – sue me? Although now that I think of it, all of those **Frozen** lyrics are just soooooo lame. They’re probably beneath even me, don’t you think?"_

"You know you’ve hit a new low when _Spider-Man_ is ripping off _your_ material,” Aaron wryly mused. “But considering how bad _his_ stuff usually is, I’m not sure he has any standing to criticize anyone else’s, particularly since I’ll bet he’d like the money those so-called lame lyrics made – unless he’s rich like Batman or something.”

“He’s a dick,” Idina said softly, barely audible. They were the first words she had uttered since he approached her that morning. Surprisingly, it was without the edge in her voice when describing other men of whom she held that opinion. “He was a dick from the first moment I met him. And he’ll always be a dick.”

”I get that impression whenever I see him on TV, superhero or not. But, he’s 3,000 miles away. He can’t reach you here. He can’t hurt you.”

She closed her eyes, dropped her head and subtly shook it as if it were a slight, subtle admonishment.

_Maybe one day, she’ll trust me enough to tell me what this is really all about. And then I can truly help her._

“Look, do you mind going into Walker’s room with me?” he asked, trying to change the subject. “I’m not really happy with a couple of things the contractors did in there, and I wanted to get your opinion about whether it’s worth bitching about or it’s just me being anal. I know _this_ isn’t over yet,” he said, gesturing to the TV, “but really, you shouldn’t be - ”

”No, that’s all right,” she interrupted, pressing the “off” button on the remote. “It never really started.”

She placed her hand on one of his and flashed the smile that never, ever failed to melt him. Interesting choice of terms, obviously. It was a tender, yet reluctant touch. She always seemed so inhibited, tentative in her physical affections, holding back, scared even. Based on Taye’s bragging during those earlier years, _that_ had _never_ been an issue with Idina before. But, her ex had wounded her deeply. Aaron had actually liked Taye, and didn't want to think ill of the man, but how could anyone, _anyone_ hurt this wonderful woman to the extent he did, humiliating her like that? It was hardly a secret, as his extra curricular activities had been whispered about for years. And what about that businessman she went out with a few times? What was his name – Osgood? No, Osborn. She said he never hurt her, that he was very kind to her, but she made it clear after saying that once, that she didn’t want to talk about him again, another frustrating batch of secrets she refused to share. And Spider-Man? He still couldn’t completely grasp what was going on in her brain when it came to the wall crawler, or even the Goblin Queen.

Still, he would wait for her, no matter how long it took. He had loved her from afar for years, and now that she was with him, he was going to give her all the time she needed to get her head in the right place, to reconcile with whatever demons she was grappling. She was worth all of that to him, and more.

He began to follow her out of the room, but then turned back to the television when something caught his attention. 

_Wait a minute. Wasn't that entire console against the opposite wall the other day? I don't recall the contractors moving it and it's way too heavy for Idina. Eh, so much is going on here, maybe they did and I just didn't notice …_

  


**Next in Chapter 2 - And I'm Not the Same Anymore** \- The reunion the fans have been waiting for is the one that could plunge Idina's new life into chaos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist the one meta reference, so forgive me.


	2. And I'm Not the Same Anymore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Idina and Kristin sing together for the first time in 12 years. But, if you thought Idina would be happy rather than tortured, you don't know Idina. And just how much does Kristin know about Idina's role during the dramatic conclusion of _That Face in the Mirror_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of the fun of doing these stories (for me at least) - is hewing close to real life events - but co-mingling them with the Spider-Man universe, so that while Idina goes through the same motions as she does in reality, some of these motions turn out to be influenced by my absurd events - sort of "You think you know the truth? Here's the real story!"

_**May, 2016** _

_I have been changed…._

_But…have I been changed for the better?_

Of all the mad streaming Idina’s mind was engaged in as she sucked in her breath and strode into the recording studio for the sound check and run through before filming, that thought was preeminent. Well, second to _God, I hope I don’t suck_. 

The cat was let out of the bag early, likely a deliberate leak to send the fandom into premature convulsions. A stray tweet from a producer of Second Stage Theatre’s Tribute to David Stone stated “cameras down” during Idina’s and Kristin’s rendering of “For Good.” The two were unable to perform live for the event, so a video would be filmed and shown at the gala. 

A double whammy of neuroses (in addition to the usual myriad ones) slammed Idina today, the first being she and Kristin had not sang together in 12 years, since the little blonde left _Wicked_ in 2004. With rare exceptions they had not been seen, photographed, or filmed together in the interim, enabling the rampant speculations of a vicious feud, exacerbated by the fact that neither wanted an on-screen _Glee_ reunion. For more than a decade their respective fandoms begged and pleaded for something like this, but each had reasons for deferring or outright avoiding it. Their genuine respect for each other, and the sincere, teary-eyed, congratulatory moments during their final show aside, their working relationship was spent. The enforced closeness of two emotional, insecure, intensely competitive, very different people, and the repetitiveness as the show stopped being developmental and became a “product,” preserved in amber for eventual distribution to London’s West Side and several national tours, had worn on them. The situation was further aggravated by Kristin’s persistent medical problems which led to numerous absences and a spectacular blow up over her bejeweled neck brace. Additionally, Kristin was anxious to move on and pursue other opportunities, including movies, and Idina looked forward to being THE star. After all “ _Wicked – starring Tony winner Idina Menzel”_ did have a certain fucking awesome ring to it. She parlayed it into a lucrative payday by opening the show in London, kick starting a still continuing run. But profit came at a price, however, as her prolonged absence from home sowed more seeds for the unravelling of her marriage. 

Neither woman considered a reunion for years due to a combination of personality and career conflicts, and the mutual desire to break free and remain clear of each other’s orbits. Neither wanted to hasten the arrival of the “pathetic Ramada Inn lounge act,” foretold by Norman Osborn. And while Idina had carved out a niche in the private, corporate gig circuit, and her symphony concerts had been a huge success (leading to her own PBS Special), she deeply envied Kristin’s success in crossing over into movie and television roles, culminating in an Emmy for _Pushing Daisies_. Until _Glee_ her own recurring television roles were limited to series which not so coincidentally featured Taye. Additionally, pop music success remained elusive as her album _I Stand_ , while not the resounding failure of her first effort, achieved only lukewarm results. She feared rejoining with Kristin for any project would create the perception she needed the blonde’s star power to augment her, and she would always come up short in any comparison of the career trajectories of the two. 

However, the universe is a strange and capricious bitch. Whether or not a God is at the helm, _something_ seems to keep the scales balanced. Over the years, Kristin was befallen with numerous physical calamities, some brought about by genetics, others by sheer misfortune. Her neck problems, Meniere’s disease and insomnia caused her repeated misery, compounded by the collapse of studio lights on her during the filming of _The Good Wife_ that nearly split open her skull. And while both had their mutual personal life clusterfucks, Idina still had a beautiful son.

Not until the success of _Frozen_ and _Let it Go_ , in tandem with John Travolta’s bizarre Oscar Night butchering of her name did Idina feel she had achieved a foothold into the broader popular culture and could stand with Kristin and not feel inadequate – or, more inadequate than usual. Still, as each year passed, fandom’s longing for, and expectations of, any potential reunion increased, as did the risk of disappointing the faithful if someone underperformed. Leave the people wanting more rather than giving them what they _think_ they want and leaving unpleasant memories for everyone.

But there was no saying “no,” to this – to honoring David Stone, not only for his contributions to New York theater, but for them personally. He was one of the producers of _Wicked_ , where both ladies were transformed from minor stars into icons. Cast participation was not needed at various intervals during the show’s development, so for Idina, Stone cast her in another of his productions, _The Vagina Monologues_ , to keep her working (and available) during her self-described “eight years of obscurity period.” Several years later, David also backed _If/Then_ , Idina’s “name above the title,” showcase, and he was the one who presented Tom Kitt and Brian Yorkey with the idea of using Idina in their then embryonic project.

Then there was the _other_ whammy.

It would be the first time the two crossed paths since their lunchtime rendezvous last year at The Palm Restaurant in New York City, in the aftermath of the attack where terrorists, disgruntled over New York’s increasing gentrification, bombed several developments as well as Times Square. Their coup de grace was to be the toppling of 432 Park Plaza, the tallest building in New York, home to condominiums targeted to foreign billionaires. Kristin, prominent at the Mayor's press conference kicking off reconstruction efforts, had been kidnapped by the terrorists and was to be executed in a dramatic, public spectacle broadcast throughout the city.

Needless to say, Spider-Man wasn’t going to let that happen. _And_ needless to say, the Goblin Queen wasn’t going to let him do it without her.

That should have been it, but after the drama finally ended in Ellis Island’s Great Hall, Spider-Man insisted she take Kristin back home. The stress of the last several days, compounded by Kristin’s nonstop talking, caused the Goblin Queen’s unmistakeable personality to erupt. When they later met at the Palm, Idina felt Kristin was aware of far more than she was willing to admit.

_**Try** to enjoy this._

Kristin, as usual, annoyingly so at times, was punctual, bright, and lighting up the studio with her smile and her silly high pitched laugh. _Girl must be on drugs._. The smile grew larger when she saw Idina enter that they moved quickly to embrace each other.

_All of those who think we hate each other can fuck off. She’s a gallon of pain in the ass in a pint sized carton but there is no one else on the face of the earth I would have wanted to share _Wicked_ with._

_And besides, lord only knows how **she’d** describe **me**_. 

After the hug, Kristin backed up, her hands remaining on each of Idina’s arms, concern etched on her face.

“Are you alright? Is something wrong?”

“Why?”

“You’re trembling.”

”That’s cute.”

”I’m not running an old line, Idina, you really are trembling. And frankly, you look more stressed out and neurotic than usual. You know, I didn’t think you were intimidated by me anymore.”

“ _Oh please!_ Check that ego at the door. When was I ever?”

Kristin gave Idina a knowing look and the latter frowned. “O.K. – but I was intimidated by EVERYTHING back then. I kept thinking every day they were going to come to their senses and fire my ass.”

The succeeding chuckle from that mutual trip to the past seemed more obligatory than sincere, as Idina was psyching herself to broach a subject with Kristin she wasn’t sure the little blonde would want to revisit. She also feared the conversation would tangent into other matters she wasn’t prepared to discuss. Still, she didn’t want to give Kristin the impression she _wasn’t_ concerned. 

“Kris, hardly a day goes by that I don’t think about you, wonder how you’re doing, how you’re coping. How are you handling everything from – last year?”

“Funny, because I was about to ask the same of you,” Kristin quietly replied. 

“I asked first.” 

The blonde sighed with a wry smile. 

“As well as can be expected, I suppose. I’ve got so many problems these days it’s hard to tell where they come from anymore and whether that trauma actually made anything worse. But, it’s the media interest that really wears on me. I’ve made it clear that I don’t want to talk about it, that Homeland Security doesn’t want me to talk about it, but either people forget, or some assholes think they’ll be clever enough to trick me into saying something, like those paps that dive bomb me at the airport all the time. Then there’s those who mean well, but keep asking how I’m doing or how I’m feeling. I mean, I appreciate people’s concern – but I just want to put it behind me.”

“I’m sorry for bringing it up – I didn’t …I just…”

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean you. If anyone’s entitled to ask, it’s _you_. So, how are _you_ feeling? No after effects from overdoing it in yoga class?” 

_Shit._ Idina grimaced. _That’s what I was afraid of._ Yoga class was the story she gave Kristin to explain still being in pain from the events at 432 Park Plaza. She doubted she was convincing.

“No.”

Kristin raised an eyebrow at Idina’s abrupt answer as another message seemed to transmit almost telepathically.

_Not here._

“OK then,” Kristin rebounded. “What happened to your TV show?”

“It _didn’t_ happen. I filmed the pilot, and Ellen’s people shopped it around but there were no takers. To be honest, even though I talked it up, the premise was lame. And it’s pretty obvious network execs don’t think I can carry a TV series. We’re trying to retool it.”

“I’ve heard something similar. That I’m a concentrated flavor, best suited to a supporting role. Unless you count that smashing sitcom success _Kristin_. Well, take it from me, don’t put it out there until you’re sure it’ll work past the pilot episode. I don’t think I’m ever going to get the loser stink off myself from that one.” 

”At least you’ve had TV series and guest starring roles. I see billboards all over LA promoting shows and roles I’ve been rejected for. Does Lea Michele’s character have a mother on her new show? Anyway, is that some of your own jewelry you’re wearing? Now you’re a fashion magnate? When the hell do you sleep?”

“I don’t. But if you’re going to have insomnia, you might as well make use of that time.”

“What’s next - your own line of clothing so you don’t have to shop at Gap Kids anymore?”

“Uh…no - considering my tastes often show up on “what not to wear.””

”Yeah, pink camouflage was not your best look.”

"Says the woman for whom sweat pants and flip flops are designer fashion.”

“Uh, ladies…” came the stage director’s tentative intrusion, uncertain whether it was wise to interrupt two iconic divas in the middle of a good-natured spat. “We need to start getting ready. We don’t have a lot of time to do this…”

  


After the sound check, run through, and last minute facial touch-ups, they were back in the studio. They gave each other a slight smile and then turned away into their respective “zones,” awaiting the piano’s initial pings.

_This is such a beautiful song, capturing the wonder AND the complexities of womens’ friendships. So much so we both still sing it at our respective shows._

Their eyes met, they smiled, and Kristin began, now staring ahead. _“I’ve heard it said, that people come into our lives for a reason…bringing something we must learn.”_

_She is so fucking beautiful. She looks so angelic compared to me. I’ve seldom felt this connected with anyone on stage. It’s easy to see why people like to think we’re lovers, which is more absurd than they realize. If they knew how so different we are…Still, I guess our differences is how we made the whole thing work. But I feel our bond has become much deeper after that awful day in the tower, whether or not she really knows it._

_“I have been changed, for good,”_ and Kristin turned to Idina.

_Wait. Her smile. There’s something different about it. Something warmer, deeper, knowing..oh shit, don't miss your cue, Idina..._

The brunette returned the smile. _I did the run through on autopilot, but this is for all the marbles. People have been waiting years for this. Don’t fuck it up._

_“It well may be…”_ and she took a deep breath in anticipation of the weight of the rest of the song. _“That we will never meet again…in this lifetime…so let me say before we part. So much of me is made of what I learned from you …You’ll be with me…like a handprint on my heart.” Dear god – I feel we’re about to sing it **for real** this time. We were so close to never seeing each other again._ Idina's eyes began welling.

As they joined together in _“Because I knew you…”_ and their voices rose, it was no longer a matter of pattern and practice, but instinct. This song was now part of their shared DNA. But the greater challenge was fast approaching.

_How am I going to keep it together with this line – with what it means now?_

_“Who can say if I’ve been changed for the better?”_ and her expression revealed the pain upon being forced to ask herself that question under the current circumstances. _I don’t know if I can say that!_. But the song had to go on. _”I do believe I have been changed for the better.”_

_“And - because - I knew you,_ ” Kristin smiled as the final stanza began to wrap.

“ _Because I knew you,” **and almost lost you.**_ Idina reached out her hand, which Kristin immediately and gladly accepted, her two small hands clasping Idina’s tightly. 

After their soaring rendition of the last line, with their hands moving in tandem with the words, the situation demanded a strong embrace. Although she had enough control of her powers to engage in normal human contact without harming others, she feared her heightened emotions might compromise some of that control, so she hesitated. Undeterred, Kristin pulled her forward, breaking the hesitation and the two shared a long overdue display of affection.

“Thank you so much,” Kristin whispered as the studio broke out in appreciation. “For _everything…_ ”

After the applause died down, a heavy silence hung over the room, as if something needed saying to put a final punctuation on the moment.

“Wow. Just. Wow,” the director finally uttered.

But before the moment could be relished, Kristin noticed a devastating change in expression overcome Idina once the cameras were turned off, and the brunette quickly turned and ran out of the studio.

”Dee?!” Kristin cried out in a futile attempt to forestall Idina’s departure.

Idina quickly darted into the room where she had dressed and slammed the door shut. She sat down at the make-up table facing a mirror, her face in her hands, short of breath, fearing an anxiety attack, and hoping everyone would believe she was simply overwhelmed by the emotions of the moment.

And everyone did. With one exception.

_Seeing Kris again, even hinting about last year, throws it all back into my face. I’m so fucking lost. I don’t know what to do, and there’s not a soul in the world I can talk to about this. Norman Osborn **is** going to get the last laugh after all if this drives me out of my fucking mind!_

As if fate had decreed there could not be a more _in_ appropriate time, she heard a knock at the door.

**_“Jesus Fucking Christ can’t I have just a few minutes?!”_**

“I’ll take that as “come in,”” the distinctive voice high-pitched voice attached to the small blonde chimed as the door quietly open and shut in defiance of Idina’s earlier outburst. ”And ignore you taking the Lord’s name in vain.” Rather than turning to face Kristin, Idina addressed her reflection in the mirror in front of her.

“Kris, this really isn’t a good time,” she said abruptly, hoping Kristin would take the hint.

“It never is with you,” Kristin replied, ignoring the hint.

“Did anyone see you come in? Because, you know, those rumors will start again.” Idina replied, still looking into the mirror. “But if we’re not going to fuck, why are you here?” Her tone grew increasingly harsh, more than she had intended, but she felt herself fraying badly.

“You should be so lucky. Got a few minutes?”

“No I don’t. Are we done here? Because I’m busy.”

_“Then make a few minutes, dammit!"_

Idina spun around sharply and was greeted by a face she’d seen all too often more than a decade ago, with its narrowed eyes and pursed lips, a face primed for battle. 

“Unless you’d rather keep escalating this, then put your seatbelt on, honey.”

Idina sighed and her shoulders sagged. She wasn’t going to win this one. Physically frail though she was, when it came to words and wit, Kristin Chenoweth was a formidable opponent. Another day Idina would be more than thrilled to go a few rounds with her, but she wasn’t up for it now. That, and the last thing they needed was to be overheard getting into a knock down drag-out when they were supposed to be paying tribute to one of their primary benefactors.

Reading Idina’s capitulation in her body language, Kristin walked over to a nearby couch and sat. 

“What’s wrong, Dee? Your bat out of hell exit spooked everyone.”

“Sorry, getting back together like that just made me emotional. And I’ve got a lot going on, worrying about my new album because some of the songs aren’t coming together – and they’re so raw to begin with. Taye’s gonna demand a royalty if he ever listens to it. And I’m always worrying about Walker. I really hate this single mom shit.” 

“Uh-huh. You sounded beautiful, by the way. Just like the old days.”

“Thank you. So did you.”

“ _No_ , I mean you _really_ sounded like the old days. Literally, as if the last 15 years never happened.

"Vocal technique. I’ve learned some things over the years."

“You’re going to make me do this aren’t you?”

Idina sat stoic.

_“If you don’t shut up I’m going to drop you while we’re still in the air!_ Sound familiar?”

Idina closed her eyes as her body seized up from panic. _The confirmation I've been dreading. Kris, please. I really can’t do this._

“Or shall I revive my “cutie-pie on steroids act”?”

“That’s enough,” Idina said sharply, but quietly, sighing with resignation. “You made your point.”

“We need to talk.”

“I don’t want to talk.”

“ _Yes_ you do. Badly. I was fine letting sleeping dogs lie because you’re entitled to your secrets. We all are. But _not_ when it’s doing this to you."

"What the fuck makes you think you know what's going on with me? 

"Because I know you. I know what the "I'm worried about Walker" face looks like. I know what the "my ex-husband can go to hell" face looks like. And I know what the "I'm going to fuck up this song," face looks like. This is totally different."

"As I recall, the last time I unburdened myself to you, I got slapped in the face."

"And as I recall, you deserved it. Can we go somewhere?”

“People will _really_ think we’re fucking if they see us leave together. You know how much fanfic this is going to inspire?”

“I know a place. I rendezvous with all my lesbian lovers there.”

“I knew it. You weren’t pretending with Annette Benning were you?”

Kristin rifled through her purse until she found a pen and an ATM receipt that she tore in half, then began to write.

“Give your driver this address.” She handed the scrap paper to Idina. “And meet me there in one hour.”

"What if I decide not to show up?"

"Why then I'll just have to track you down and kill you, won't I?" Kristin smiled sweetly as she looked back upon exiting the room. 

_Terrific. Just terrific. She's the only person I know who can threaten your life and make it sound like she's doing you a favor._

_I wonder if there are any razor blades in here._

  


**Next in Chapter 3 - Running From our Destiny** \- Confronting the truth will shatter Idina's new world. But not doing so will almost certainly destroy it. Oh, and there will be a guest star next chapter. Not him. Nor him. A new one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idina’s professional jealousy is admittedly, speculation on my part, but I think it’s reasonable speculation based on comments Idina has made over the years about her difficulties in achieving crossover success. I’ve read enough to believe that for all of the gossip and misinformation and speculation (just because they worked closely together doesn’ t mean they love each other, but conversely, just because they might have gotten into a few nasty arguments doesn’t mean they hate each other, either), the blow up over the neck brace seems to have been real. The quote about the TV show is again, largely speculation, but when Idina was asked what happened to it she said “we’re still working on it.” Considering that it was actually filmed in late 2015...yeah.


	3. Running From Our Destiny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Idina meets another one of _those_ people, but doesn't know it. And Kristin forces her to confront a truth she was unwilling to admit to herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idina was shot in Chapter 8 of _Witches and Spiders and Goblins_. Kristin and Idina's conversation touches on several of the events of _That Face in the Mirror_ , specifically Chapter 4 - when they were almost kidnapped, Chapter 8 - the Times Square attacks, and Chapters 10 & 11 - the battle at 432 Park Avenue. You don't necessarily have to read those chapters to understand this one, but I'd sure appreciate it, and my ego could use the hits.

_December 2014 - Richard Rodgers Theatre - If/Then_

Typically at the end of curtain call, James Snyder would wrap his arm around Idina's waist as they walked off stage, and she would turn and give the audience a smile and wave. It was a cute gesture, the fans loved it, and it reflected their own natural, easygoing chemistry. But that was before that night at the Gershwin, before bullets ripped through her thigh and upper arm as Norman Osborn, aka the Green Goblin, was flying her out of the collapsing theater. The police, incognizant of what had truly happened, in their attempt to bring down the Goblin, clipped her with friendly fire. By sheer will she returned to the stage within six weeks of the accident, an action which now appeared premature.

As of late, the “cute gesture” had almost become a necessity. Not only did Idina continue to struggle walking, even with the cane, but she had deteriorated over the last several nights. Many in the cast and crew were concerned that without James supporting her during curtain call, she would collapse on stage, writhing in pain. Yet, she refused to skip the curtain call, and any consideration to appearing in a wheelchair was dashed after seeing legendary chanteuse Barbara Cook perform a show in one. Idina neither wanted to be pitied, nor perceived as pathetic. Although James and Anthony Rapp suggested creative ways of getting her around the stage during the call, such as in a rickshaw or motorcycle, or a sedan chair, carried as if she were royalty, she refused them all, becoming angrier with each suggestion. An exasperated Anthony finally told her he'd had it with her "goddamn diva ego – fall on your face in front of everyone then!" Idina’s response, upping the ante in tactlessness, was along the lines of "I'd shove this cane up your ass but you'd probably like that wouldn't you, you old queen?"

Joby Horrigan, Idina's long time dresser and friend, stood at the dressing room door as James shuffled Idina into a waiting chair after another demanding night that wore down the endurance, and the patience, of the star and those around her.

"Is there anything else you need? Can I run and get you something?" James asked, increasingly concerned.

"You're such a sweetheart, James," Idina said, fighting back tears. Dearest James, the laid back California boy, his soul still uncorrupted by the high pressure lifestyle of a working actor in the most densely populated city in the country. As opposed to the fanfic surrounding her and Kristin, which she sometimes got a perverse pleasure in playing to, the fic pairing her and James bothered her because James was a devoted family man with a wife and baby and another on the way, and she didn't think she was _that_ much of a slut. Besides, if the fic were based in reality, she thought, the stories would probably have him running and screaming for the hills in less than 30 days after any such coupling. “But that’s OK. I'm in Joby's capable hands now."

"That's why she pays me the big bucks," Joby said with a smile, attempting to mask her own concern as she began attending to Idina. "Thank you, James." 

Snyder nodded and pulled the door shut as he exited. Joby took Idina's cane from her, propped it on the make-up table, and pulled her boots and socks off her feet as being barefoot helped her relax. She tried wiggling her toes but even that sent a sharp stab of pain up her leg.

"I don't pay you enough to do _this_. I'm so sorry."

"Pinning you into your outfits and wigs I do because I’m your employee. Things like _this_ I do because I’m your _friend_."

Through tears and a tight, grim smile, Idina nodded her acknowledgement. _I don't deserve any of these people. They've tried to take care of me, protect me, but…_

”I’m not going to have any friends before long. Anthony hates me and probably won’t speak to me again.”

”Anthony doesn’t hate you, Dee,” Joby motherly chided. “You’ve been friends for 20 years. He knows how you are. He wouldn’t have gone off like that if he wasn’t worried sick about you. You’re letting your pride get in the way of what’s best for you. You’re hurting their feelings, not because of what you say when you’re angry, but because you’re not letting them do what friends do for each other. You have to let people love and take care of you sometimes.” 

"I came back too soon," finally came the admission Idina had long refused to utter. "I wanted so badly to come back, but I just don't know if I can do this anymore. I'm in so much pain, but if I dope myself up on painkillers I'll be incoherent on stage, not to mention worrying about getting addicted. But I'm staggering around like an old lush. I'm a total embarrassment to myself, the cast, and producers. And I know some sonofabitch uploaded something on YouTube showing me hobbling around. Maybe I should stop and take more time off." 

"You have to do what’s best for you, and for Walker, too. But,” Joby hesitated, fearful of upsetting Idina further, yet needing to remind her before she hastily said or did something. “If you do that, you know that'll be the end of the show for good. The producers will just close it rather than try going any further without you." 

Idina looked away and pressed her lips together, attempting to forestall any additional tears. Closing the show before the end of her contract was anathema to her. Not only would it prematurely throw the cast and crew out of work, but mark the first time in her career she would be unable to complete her scheduled run on a project. To her, that represented nothing short of complete and total failure, regardless of the rationale. 

"Dee,” Joby continued. “I know this is going to sound like an insensitive request, but do you think you could squeeze in a couple of visitors?" 

Idina’s head snapped around, disbelief and anger on her face " _ **What?**_ Are you fucking kidding me? I don't want anyone seeing me like this! I just want to go home and see my boy and go to bed!”

"Well, I don't think them _seeing_ you like this is something you have to worry about. Trust me, it would really, _really_ mean a lot to them."

Idina sighed. Joby had taken care of her for many years, almost as if she were one of the older woman’s children at times. In addition to being a close friend and confidant through good times and bad, she was also Idina’s first line of defense during shows, shielding her from unwanted intrusions when she needed time alone, and the occasional overzealous fan who might have slipped through other barriers. If _she_ wanted her to meet these people….Idina could give them a few minutes. Maybe they would see how uncomfortable she was and make it quick.

"OK. But, please, not too long."

"Fair enough," Joby replied as she leaned out the dressing room door and called to the guests.

Idina was taken aback as it was a blind couple that entered the room. The first thing she noticed about the man was how his vivid red hair contrasted with his worn and haggard face, with deeply etched age lines. He moved slow and haltingly, suggesting he needed the cane as much for physical support as for directing him as he walked. He was likely in his 40’s, but it wouldn’t surprise her if he were older. His female companion however, was considerably younger, probably no older than 30. Her hair was short and black, and she also came in with a cane, but moved quicker and more freely than her companion.

"I'm Matt Murdock," he said as they approached. "This is my wife, Milla Donovan.” _Wife? I would have thought daughter. Man likes his girls young, I guess._ “Forgive me if I'm a bit slow at the moment, but I - overexerted myself last night." Milla turned to him, her annoyed expression suggesting this was not the first time he had done so, and it was a subject they had discussed at length, probably heatedly. Idina placed both hands on her cane to pull herself up, but Murdock raised a hand to stop her. "Please, don't get up. You've stood enough tonight." 

"How'd you know I was sitting and was trying to get up?"

"Your voice will sound different when you’re sitting as opposed to standing. Also, your cane tapped the floor, and you began to grunt, which suggested you were about to attempt to stand."

_Of course. Blind people are good at that kind of thing, aren’t they?_ Idina relaxed and took Murdock’s outstretched hand, then Milla’s. "I've heard of you, Mr. Murdock, seen you on TV. You've taken on some pretty high profile cases over the years. You don't do divorces, do you?"

"Matt, please." He smiled, taking Idina's sarcastic inquiry with the humor she intended. "And no. Trust me, I would find that more dangerous than criminal law. "

Murdock was pleasant enough, but Idina had enough visitors over the years to recognize that while respectful, he was unimpressed – definitely not a celebrity worshipper. He was clearly humoring his wife, who was starstruck, her face flushing as she took Idina’s hand. It was a look she had seen on countless young women over the years, which always stirred the contradictory mix of being graciously flattered by and feeling unworthy of the adulation. 

"I've wanted to meet you for so long. I always enjoyed going to theater with my parents, because in my mind I could imagine what was happening in any way I chose, regardless of how everything actually looked. But when they took me to _Wicked_ , when you and Kristin were in the show, I….I know this is going to sound so stupid and corny, but…well…for the first time, I really felt I could actually _see_ what was going on. The way the emotion just resonates from your voice…I..I really hear _colors_ when you sing. I don’t get that from anyone else. And the fact you’re up there on that stage, your voice powering through those songs when your body wants to give up on you. I can’t tell you how inspiring that it, knowing that you can relate, at least a little bit, to the struggles that a lot of us face on a daily basis. Could I…could I… touch your face?"

"Milla!" Murdock whispered, but loudly enough to be heard by Idina and Joby, into her ear. "Ms. Menzel would probably rather not be touched right now. Her heart’s stressed from exhaustion and pain and she really needs to rest."

"Oh, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to – I mean…"

Milla became anxious, fearful that after waiting years to meet one of her idols, it took less than a minute to offend her.

"No, that’s OK. I don’t mind, not at all,” Idina quietly said. Tired and hurting as she was, Milla’s comments touched her, and her request was so innocent, childlike even, that she felt compelled to grant it. ”Although I’m wearing a pound of makeup which my face is sweating off so I’ll probably feel gross. And don’t hurt yourself on that big Jewish honker of mine.”

”Oh please,” Milla said as her open hand slowly cupped Idina’s cheek. Her fingertips gently glided down Idina’s face, and then around her jaw as they made their way up Idina’s other cheek. “Wow – those cheekbones - and that’s some jawline.” She moved across Idina’s eyebrows and then slowly down the nasal ridge and off the tip. “Your nose isn’t that big.” She finished by brushing Idina’s lips, and then withdrew her hand. “It’s true. You’re as beautiful as you sound, as beautiful as they say you are.”

Idina flushed and broke eye contact, not that Milla would notice.

”Milla…” Murdock placed his hand on her shoulder and she drew back. “We need to go.”

”Of course. Thank you, thank you so much. I’m sorry for bothering you, but…”

“No, not all. No apologies necessary. Thank you for stopping by," Idina humbly and quietly responded. 

Murdock turned Milla around, placed his hand on her back and turned her to the door. “That meant a lot to her," he said. "Thank you for your kindness.” Joby followed the couple to the threshold, and shut the door. As she turned around, Idina sharply asked "You did that on purpose, didn't you?" Joby merely gave her a noncommittal smile as Idina sighed. “I’m going to have to call out tomorrow, I really need the rest, but…I should talk to James and Anthony…see what ideas they have…and say I’m sorry.”

  


"Thank you so much, Matt," Milla said as they exited the Richard Rodgers Theatre and into a waiting limousine. “I know celebrities don't impress you in the slightest, but I've always wanted to meet her and tell her how her music makes me feel. It's so sad what happened to her."

"An unfortunate side effect of keeping company with Norman Osborn. He's the reason she's in the condition she's in," Murdock replied, as he sat down in the back seat and the driver shut the door after him, a touch of anger in his voice upon the mention of Osborn's name.

"Osborn? But - wasn't that the Green Goblin she was with that night? Wasn't he the one trying to kidnap her? And it was the police accidentally shooting her when they were trying to take down the Goblin that hurt her, wasn’t it? What did Norman Osborn have to do with that?"

"I have a friend in our… _community_ who gets pretty emotional about Osborn. But even as prone to exaggeration as he is, I have no doubt what he says is true – Osborn is as evil as they come." 

Milla went silent, and Murdock, not wanting to end the conversation on a downer talking about Norman Osborn, said, "You know, judging from her heartbeat, I think your visit actually did _her_ more good than you.”

  


_May 2016_

Fear and trepidation weighing down every step, Idina was ushered by the maitre d’ to a private table, where Kristin was already seated. _Like a queen on her fucking throne. Why did I even come here?_

"You summoned me, Your Majesty?" Idina curtsied before sitting, the sarcasm so blatant the maitre d' was momentarily taken off guard. He was already wary as his earlier attempt at pleasantries were simply met with a dour visage from the brunette, but with the curtsy, he wondered if it might escalate into a diva throwdown. 

"Chill out, Snow Queen. _You're_ the Disney Princess, if I recall." Kristin's response was deceptively warm, a ruse for the sake of the maître d', who placed a menu in front of Idina as she sat, but there was no mistaking it meant _sit down and STFU._

“I’m not hungry,” Idina replied abruptly.

“What - you don't have to eat anymore?” 

”Fine.” Idina gave Kristin a quick glare and focused on the menu for the next several minutes until the waiter arrived. The women placed their orders and watched the waiter leave. An awkward, suffocating silence hung over the table until Kristin spoke.

“So, are you going to sit there silently and fume and let me do all of the talking?”

“I thought you always preferred it that way.”

Rather than escalate the mood, Kristin gave her a small smile and a weak chuckle. “ _That_ has a familiar ring to it. Believe it or not, I'm getting more and more sentimental about those days, even some of those old arguments, ugly as they got sometimes. But I guess I finally realized that a lot of it _wasn’t_ personal between us, but a factor of the situation we were placed in. We were two driven, passionate people who desperately wanted it to work because so much was at stake. So much pressure, so much money, with both our careers in the balance. I was coming off a humiliating embarrassment from that TV show, and you were struggling to find work. We knew it was either going to make both of us into the stars we desperately wanted to be, or taint us as one-hit wonders if it crashed and burned. You ever wonder how life would have turned out if they'd given Elphaba to Julia Murney instead?"

Idina fidgeted uncomfortably, frustrated with Kristin's slow dance around the subject, but knew the blonde was buying time until the waiter came back with their orders, and then they could be assured of privacy.

"I did a whole fucking show about if/then moments. I think of them all. A lot."

"And, I guess age and a few brushes with death will also make one more sentimental. You know what that's like too, don't you?" 

Neither spoke again until the waiter returned with food and drinks, after which Kristin asked they be allowed to talk privately and she would signal if they needed anything. The waiter nodded his understanding and left. 

Idina remained stoic, not even bothering to pick at her food. Kristin slowly took a drink, placed her glass back on the table, sighed, and finally spoke.

“This has bothered me all year. But like I said, I never intended to bring it up to you, because the moment never seemed right and I wanted to respect your privacy. I had no perspective on what you were going through, what you were dealing with, and couldn’t imagine what it was like for you. But, it seems right to do this now,” and Kristin’s eyes began welling. “It seemed too insane to be true, as I started putting the pieces together, with all of those bizarre and apparently unrelated events suddenly lining up and making sense. Anyway, I-I never thanked you for last year, for what you did.”

Idina turned away, now at a crossroads. If she continued the conversation on its current trajectory, it would be the first acknowledgement to another human being (other than Osborn and Peter) about the truth behind the Goblin Queen. No one else, not Cara, not her therapist, not her parents, not Walker, and not even Aaron had any hint of her involvement in the events at 432 Park Avenue. And she had no contact with Spider-Man since their conversation at the top of the Empire State Building last year. There was little telling what opening the door to this subject would unleash, what trauma, what emotion, would gush out. But Kris' instinct that _not_ talking about it wasn't doing her any favors, was on target. And both of them - for all of their conflicts - had steadfastly kept each other's secrets over the years.

“Yeah, yeah you did,” she finally said quietly. “At Ellis Island. On TV. And...lunch at the Palm.”

“No, I thanked _her_. And I told _you_ how grateful I was to _her_ , as if we were playing a clever little “wink-wink” game. But I never thanked _you_. Dee, what you did – what you risked…I can never, ever repay that debt.”

“That’s not why I did it – for you to be in my debt. Besides, as I recall, you saved my ass, too.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time we’ve mutually saved each other’s asses, would it?" Kristin laughed uncomfortably, recognizing this would be the last moment of levity for awhile. 

"But, why did you come that day? Why did you risk so much? Andy told me what happened after I was kidnapped. That it was _you_ going to my dressing room, grabbing my meds, and bolting out the door muttering about doing something. He didn’t say it to you, but he was thought you were talking crazy, that the stress everyone was under during that time had gotten to you. And then the Goblin Queen has my meds at Ellis Island, saying a friend of mine gave them to her, but it was _you_ all along.”

Idina pressed her lips tightly together and looked away again as her own eyes began watering and she whispered, almost choking on the words. 

“I…I couldn’t let you die." 

After a moment to collect herself, she turned back to Kristin. "I couldn’t just sit safe in my apartment well outside the evacuation perimeter watching the fucking thing unfold on TV, _not_ with what I could do. Spider-Man tried to talk me out of going. He knew I went to pieces after that baby girl in Harlem. But I felt – I had a - responsibility.” 

“That explains so much. But – how?”

“Osborn.” 

“Of course.”

Slowly, Idina related the details of how Norman Osborn had, out of feelings of guilt for her injuries suffered at the Gershwin, injected her with the Goblin Formula to promote rapid healing, brainwashing her into not remembering while he also created the Goblin Queen identity. She told Kristin as much as she remembered of that fateful night, when the two women were attacked, and the trauma triggered the emergence of her other identity, after which she remembered everything Osborn had done, and everything she now was.

"When did _you_ know?" she asked Kristin at the conclusion of her tale.

“Not until you dropped me off at my apartment after leaving Ellis Island. It's hard to explain...but there was just something about her-you. The way the two of us almost immediately lapsed into a debate, as if we already knew each other.” 

Idina went silent, and Kristin sensed a reluctance to continue. She knew, however, they had only scratched the surface of what was troubling Idina, and opted to proceed from a different direction.

“Saw you bought a new house. Looks nice. ”

“Yeah. Needs a lot of work, though. I’ve had contractors in and out for months.”

“That sure snuck up on everyone.”

“That’s because it wasn’t anyone’s fucking business but my own!” Idina snapped. “And it would've stayed _my_ business if the goddamn vultures didn’t scan all of the real estate transactions. Honest to god, just tell the whole fucking world where my house is, what it looks like, and how much I paid for it!” 

“It just wasn’t the house you moved fast on after leaving New York.”

“Oh…I see where _this_ is going. What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Was he supposed to have taken me to the homecoming dance and the prom first? Did I jump in before you had the chance?”

“ _Ye-owch!_ Pull the claws back in, Kitty. I’m talking as a friend, not something dying to put her pheromones on him. I’ve never met the man. I told you you’re on a precipice - looks like I might have even underestimated just how much."

Idina's eyes opened wider as she realized she had just validated everything Kristin had suggested was going on with her. Sometimes, she regretted just how well the blonde had learned to read her.

“I’m sorry, Kris. You - You’re right. I- I’m about to blow apart. I don’t know what to do."

"Well, you can start by talking," Kristin said softly. After a pause, Idina nodded.

“Aaron is an old friend. I met him years ago when we were doing a show in New York. We... have history. When my ex kept putting notches on bed posts on both coasts – I figured why should I be expected to always sleep alone? It didn't last long as I decided to try to get pregnant because I hoped that would be the thing that would finally stop Taye from spreading it around – but it only slowed him. After all of that... garbage with the terrorists, I'd had enough of New York, had enough of idiots in costumes and shit blowing up around me, and people dying, and I wanted a new start. While in the process of moving back to California I re-connected with him. Things just kind of happened from there. 

“Aaron’s a man I trust. A man I can rely on. He’s financially savvy. He’s kind, he has a job, a _real_ job, where he helps people. He’s been in show biz so he understands it, but he’s been out of it long enough to give me that connection I need to the real world outside it. I don’t have to worry about where he is when I’m on the road. He doesn’t have a hidden darkness waiting to come out and destroy everyone and everything in its wake. And he won’t disappear in the middle of the night chasing after a forgiveness no one can give him but himself.” 

Idina’s eyes gazed downward and she finally make some headway on her meal, showing little inclination to continuing the remainder of the conversation. Finally, Kristin broke the silence. 

“I counted three different men there. The first I recognized as your ex. The second has to be Norman Osborn. Is the third who I think it is?”

Idina sighed and continued focusing on her food. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Why not?”

“He’s forgotten me by now.”

“ _Oh, **please**_. No one who spends any amount of time with you could _ever_ forget you. And I was there at Ellis Island, remember? My hearing’s not what it used to be and of course I couldn’t see anyone’s eyes, but I’ve been around enough men to know all the signs, to read the body language.”

“How many men?”

“Funny bitch. But it's not going to work. He cared about you.”

"Spider-Man cares about a lot of people. That’s what makes him a superhero. But he's such a horse’s ass. He never shuts the hell up, he tells the stupidest fucking jokes, and he was always making fun of me.”

“Oh boo hoo you fragile little thing. I’m sure you threw it right back at him, and knowing you, enjoyed every minute of it. You know, you seemed awfully protective of him, jealous, even, when I joked about making a play for him. So, he’s really that much younger than me? He can't be, he's been around a long time.”

Idina hesitated. Kristin knowing her identity was problematic enough, but that was between the two of them. She didn't have the right to tell Kristin anything about Peter. But his age was harmless enough, she supposed. “No. He’s 10 years younger than I am. James Snyder's age.”

“Good lord, you mean he's been doing this since he was a teenager? Still, if he's Snyder's age, that hardly makes him cougar bait. Your new man's younger than you himself, isn't he?” 

“The _green girl_ was more his type, OK? Are we done with this yet?” 

“Is that the lie you tell yourself to make it easier? So what happened to the green girl? She hasn’t been seen since you left New York.”

“She’s dead,” Idina said firmly. “She died back in New York.”

“Maybe she just wants everyone to believe she is. Like Elphaba did.”

“I’d say that’s _her_ business, wouldn’t you? Maybe she found her Fiyero and just wants to settle down with him and her child and have a normal life. She had her reasons for never telling Glinda, you know.”

“Ouch. You’re on a roll today. But who says that was really the end of the story? Besides - normal life? We’re entertainers, driven by a compulsion that we either perform or we die. We don’t have _normal_ lives, at least not compared to almost everyone else out there.” 

“More normal than others. Maybe she realized she had more important things in life than that - nonsense.”

“Does that mean you're still - ? That you can still - ?”

“Yes.” 

“Have you considered – you know - doing something more with it? “

“No fucking way.”

“Why not? Maybe it’s really a gift that you can use to help people.”

Kristin's face dropped, knowing she had just said something she wished she could take back, something that would guarantee an emotional eruption.

“A **gift?** _A fucking gift_? A gift from who, Kris? From _**God**_? Don't pull out the "God's Will" card on me, because frankly, I'm not sure we _have_ the same God. Besides, it wasn't any "God" that did this to me - it was Norman Fucking Osborn, which is about as far as you can get from "God."

"Well, then if you don't want it anymore, isn't there something you can do? Somewhere you can go to get it fixed?"

"Get it fixed? What the fuck am I, a cat? You make it sound as simple as going to the vet!"

"Do you mean this is permanent?"

"I don't think so. But, I don’t trust anyone. I don’t trust SHIELD. Peter told me – “

“Peter - ?”

_Damn!_ “A - friend told me he knew someone, someone he trusted...who wasn't with SHIELD who could take this away from me. But…once I left on my tour, and after I started up with Aaron, I...I didn’t want to talk to him again. I wasn’t ready.

"It's funny, you know. Growing up, you see all the little boys pretending to be superheroes. And before we moved to California, Walker used to be so into them, especially Spider-Man. And although little girls didn't have as many of them, we did have Wonder Woman, Supergirl, Batgirl. It wasn't the whole power fantasy trip like it was with boys, but it was fun to imagine what you could do, if you were someone like Wonder Woman, someone who could rescue people, who could help people in trouble, who could protect people who weren't as strong from those who would abuse them. I mean, how great would it be, if you saw a woman with bruises, knowing that her man was beating on her, to be able to walk up to him and beat the living shit out of him - to show _him_ what it felt like to be weak and vulnerable. Not to mention being able to walk anywhere, at any time of night, and not have to fucking worry about being attacked, because you could handle anything that came your way." 

"And - you did. That night."

Idina nodded.

“I know. And God help me, that bastard Osborn was right. When my head cleared and I knew what had happened - it felt good. But then, the terrorists attacked, and I went with Spider-Man to Times Square, and I saw...I saw the other side of what those people have to deal with, superheroes, cops, firefighters. The battles they don't win. The lives they don't save. What I saw - you can’t imagine. The bodies. All those bodies." Idina's lips quivered and tears ran down both cheeks. " _Children’s_ bodies. Kris, do you know what a crushed human body looks like? Have you held a dead child in your arms? And faced a mother right after she learned her baby was dead?” 

“That picture.”

"Yes."

"That picture was everywhere. And when I realized that it was _you_..."

“I couldn’t save – I mean I tried, I really tried.”

“Honey, I can’t imagine what that felt like. And probably nothing that happens will ever let you forget it. You'll probably remember it for the rest of your life. But, do you realize how many people you _saved_? You and Spider-Man? All those people you pulled out of the wreckage who lived - the people you took down from the Marriott before it fell apart, and not to mention how many lives were saved when you helped Spider-Man keep that tower from falling down. You have _nothing_ to be ashamed of. No matter how powerful you are – you can’t save everyone.”

“You know, I was going to cancel my tour, because I didn’t feel that I could sing with all of that negative shit in my head.” And then she smiled. “But, Spider-Man talked me out of it.”

“Smart man.”

"Regardless of the horror, the death, and the pain - there’s also love, hope and joy. And, I feel I can bring that to people. And they give it back to me. The reception I got from that tour was so strong, so overwhelming. 

“But, I made a lot of mistakes back there in the tower, mistakes that nearly got me, got _you_ killed. And I don’t know what I could turn into. At Ellis Island, I almost crossed a line I would never have gotten back from.”

“Did you really want to kill that man?”

“Yes.”

“But you didn’t. That should tell you something about yourself - that you're too good to cross that line."

"And yet here I am, with what I can do – and _I’m not doing anything_. Every day that something bad happens in the city I think I could have helped. But I’m afraid of what will happen if I do. I got lucky last time. And what if someone found out who I was? And they came after Walker to get to me? Or anyone else in my family? Or Aaron? Kris, it’s driving me insane! But, I can’t talk to Aaron. I can’t talk to Spider-Man.”

“Why can’t you talk to Spider-Man? Sounds to me like you have his phone number. Don’t you trust him? "

“I do trust him. It’s myself I’m not too sure about. Do you realize, in the 20 years he's been a superhero, he's gotten nothing in return? Nothing! I’m not good enough to do that. I can’t compete with that. When I think of what I do that I think is so goddamn important, and then why I compare that with what he does, I feel so fucking worthless and insignificant.”

“Why do you have to compete with him? Look, I don’t know Spider-Man. Frankly, I never cared for him before what happened last year. But I’ve read up on him some since that time. I never realized just how much good he’s done.” 

“He _is_ a good man. The best. Not that I’d ever tell him that. But he’s complicated. And when you look into his eyes, I mean, really look into his eyes – there’s so much weariness, so much pain. I could never take on that much pain. I have enough of my own. ” 

“We’re all complicated, honey. I don’t know exactly why he does what he does. Maybe it is the poor and downtrodden that provides people like that with the motivation to do what they do. But it’s the people who love them that give them the courage. Spider-Man doesn't need someone competing with him, he probably just needs someone to pick _him_ up on those days that _he's_ feeling worthless and insignificant.” 

“Don’t do this Kris. Please. I don’t need this now. My life is already complicated enough. Aaron’s a good man. Normal. Stable. Dependable. He’s always there and he’ll always be there when I need him. I _need_ to be the most important thing in someone’s life. I need that person to be available to me, if not in person, at least on the phone, or Skype, or whatever. And don’t tell me you don’t want exactly the same goddamn thing. I don’t share well, and I can’t be second fiddle to the problems of the world or to the ghosts of someone's past.”

”That sounds pretty selfish itself. Some might say anyone involved with you has to share _you_ with the world, with all of those teenage and little girls who love you, particularly now that you’re a Disney Princess, which is just so weird. But do you love Aaron?”

“Of course I do!”

“Well, have you told him – ?“

“ _No!_ And I’m not going to! I’m not telling Walker, either. I never even told my sister or my therapist! I left all that behind when I left New York!”

“Walker’s not old enough to know, but this isn't the kind of thing you keep secret from a man you claim you love. Are you going to wait until you accidentally throw him across the room? Or demolish half the house during one of your temper tantrums?”

“Oh, what the fuck do you know about any of this, Kris? Like you'd keep a man long enough to know!“ Kristin's eyes dropped to the table, her expression hardened, and she flushed. 

“I did it again, didn’t I?" Idina asked. "I'm sorry, I really am - I don't know why I keep ... ”

"Yes, yes you do know why. When you want to hurt me, that's the cheap shot you keep pulling out of your hat. Thought you'd come up with something better by now."

"I guess this is the part where you slap me again."

"You've said worse. That one wasn't worth the effort."

"Hell of a relationship we have, isn't it?"

"Guess it's my turn now. Let's cut to the chase. Stop lying to yourself, Dee. Admit it. This is tormenting you, for all of the reasons you've given, and the one you haven't. And until you address _that_ one, you'll never find peace.

"You're not miserable just because you want to escape from that life you've talked about. You're miserable _because you miss it!_ " 

The color drained from Idina’s face and she suddenly felt short of breath. 

“Good lord, it’s true.” Kristin said, her expression a combination of knowing the truth ahead of time, but still surprised to see it actually confirmed. “That's the _real_ reason you haven't done anything about it. The real reason you haven't told Aaron. The real reason you're afraid to talk to Spider-Man. You miss how good all of that power makes you feel. You miss being out there, helping people, making a real difference. You even miss flying on that damn - whatever the hell that thing is. _And you miss **him.**_ ” 

“Please don’t do this. Things were finally going back to normal.” 

“Dee, you have to tell Aaron. You don’t have a choice. If you love him, truly love him, you’ll tell him.”

“But what if it causes me to lose him? You don’t understand. He’s one of the most honest, decent, normal people I’ve met in this fucked up business, this whole fucked up world! “

“Then you have to talk to Peter, Spider-Man, whatever you call him. Settle things there. And, if you're not going to use this - power - that you have, go see his friend and get rid of it! I'm not going to tell you exactly _what_ you should do - but do _something_! The status quo will destroy you otherwise.” 

Idina quickly grabbed her purse and stood. After pulling out some money, she threw it haphazardly to the table.

“This should cover my bill. It was nice seeing you again, Kris,” and she turned and quickly walked out of the room.

“Dee - !” Kristin stood up and reached out, but Idina was already gone. Another time she might have chased after her and tried to pull her back, but she knew given Idina's present status, she had no chance of catching up to her.

As she sat back down, she carried on a solitary conversation.

"Thanks, Kris, for letting me get that off my chest. Oh, no problem. I'm always here for you when you're about to go flying off the cliff. Happy to take the abuse. You'll get my bill."

_Oh, my poor Dee. Honey, this isn’t going to get any easier._

  


**Next in Chapter 4 - _When all of the Beauty Turns to Pain_ ** Idina makes contact with an old friend. Aaron gives her an ultimatum. And fate decides to play another cruel joke. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those not familiar with comic book continuity, which these stories follow, Karen Page is long dead (sorry Netflix and Chillers), and Matt Murdock _was_ indeed married to Milla Donovan, although I don't know what the current status of that is, but like I've said before, I pick and choose what I want to use from the comic books. I guess you could call the result "Idinaverse" continuity.
> 
> Milla's comment on "hearing colors" is not something I made up to give her narration dramatic heft. I lifted that almost directly from an interview with Producer David Stone when he described how Idina's singing impacts him. 
> 
> I don't know if Idina has a "history" with Aaron or not, other than friendship. I have a hard time believing that there wasn't a history, considering how quickly and readily she seemed to take up with him.


End file.
